


Tell Me Your Secrets, and Ask Me Your Questions

by grandfatherclock



Series: Widojest Week 2019 [6]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Community: widojest love, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: “Are you in love with me, Lavorre?”





	Tell Me Your Secrets, and Ask Me Your Questions

“Nein,” Caleb mutters, staring at her. They’re in a tunnel, and he’s pulling off his coat. Jester stares as he wraps her in it and puts his trembling hand to the gaping wound to her side, trying to keep that comforting smile playing on her lips. He’s _shaking_ , and he’s running a bloodied hand through his hair in frustration. She wants to tell him to be careful, but she gets distracted when he squeezes her hand, drawing her attention back to his face. “Nein, Lavorre, just… _talk_ to me, ja?” His voice is rough, a little wretched. His words drag into each other, he himself injured. She can see his purple coat drenched along his stomach, watches where his white shirt bleeds into red.

“I… I wish,” she gasps, her throat raw from screaming as she cast during the battle. It makes her voice a little rough, kind of brittle, and she hopes… she hopes Caleb will consider her bright and beautiful despite it. “I wish I could _heal_ you, Schatz.” His face _twists_ at the Zemnian term of endearment, and she runs a thumb in circles over his hand. His breathing is shaking, uneven, and Jester gives him a weak smile. “I’m a _really_ good healer, I swear.”

“I-I know,” Caleb says, his voice soft. He leans forward and presses his forehead against hers. “I _know_ you are, blueberry. The rest just _tease_ , they don’t… they know you’re so good. You’re always so good, Lavorre. My favourite healer.”

Jester giggles, and winces at how _broken_ it sounds, splintering the cool air in the darkness. Caleb’s pretty face is flowing against those _Dancing Lights_ , and she thanks the Traveler for allowing her this final, divine sight. “Even more than _Caduceus_?” Jester pouts. “He’s so… _important_ and _serious_ , though.” She thinks of his grand destiny under Melora’s light and grimaces.

“Don’t doubt _now_ ,” Caleb begs her. She stares at him, her eyes a little hazy and her smile becoming more limp, and there are tears on his cheeks. They glimmer against the arcane lights, and his face looks strange, being this open. “Oh, Lavorre, I was… I was trying to learn how to _heal_ with the stone.” He brings it out, nearly dropping it, and presses it to her chest. She looks at the smiley face she drew on it all that time ago, and her lips quirk up. “I’m… it’s too late, I was too slow.” He pulls her body into a hug, his head buried in the crook of her neck. She can feel his tears, and realizes that her own cheeks are wet. “I’m so _sorry_ , blueberry.”

“Cayleb,” Jester whispers, her thumb still running circles against his hand.

“Ja?” He presses a kiss against her neck, and whispers the word against her freckled blue skin. He’s so _warm_ , he’s always so _warm_ —if she had the strength, she would curl up into him, press as much of herself as possible against his heated frame. 

“Look at me, okay?” Jester exhales, and hates how _faint_ her own breath is. “It’s okay, you know? Just look at me.” He stills for a moment, and then his embrace becomes momentarily tighter before he pulls his head back, staring at her with his dishevelled, blood-stained hair and pale blue eyes that reflect the light from the arcane illumination brilliantly. “Just… just _talk_ to me, you know? Like _normal_.”

Caleb runs a hand over his face, and Jester watches red smear slightly against his cheek. He still looks beautiful, broken and trembling though he is. She thinks for a terrifying moment he won’t heed her last request, won’t be _able_ to, but after a moment, he barks out this bitter half laugh, and turns their intertwined hands so he’s rubbing _her_ hand with his clever, rough fingers. “Hey, Lavorre.” His voice is conversational, despite the undercurrent of unevenness in his lilting dialect.

“Yeah, Cayleb?” Her body is slumping against the wall he’s placed her against, and he leans over to sit beside her, holding her hand all the while. Jester leans her head against his shoulder. Her voice is still _rough_ , but Caleb smiles gently in the way he usually does when he’s endeared by her.

“Are you in love with me, Lavorre?” He sounds quiet.

Jester’s gaze _snaps_ to him, sluggish as the movement is, and lets out this choked laugh that makes her gash in her side, staining her pretty leather, _hurt_ like a _motherfucker_. “ _Merde_ ,” she curses, letting out another half-laugh at the pain. Caleb’s expression is both tormented and amused as he watches her. She wishes she could smooth out that crease between his eyebrows with her fingers. “What brought _that_ on?” Caleb raises an eyebrow, and she smiles weakly. “Ja, you’re _right_.” Despite _everything_ , Jester realizes she’s _flushing_ slightly. “Oui. Yeah. I _love_ you, you know?” She closes her eyes, and loses what’s left of her strength. He catches her, like he always does, like _she_ catches _him_ , and Jester is glad the last thing she sees is him looking down at her with this helpless smile.

“I know,” he says. “Je sais.” He lets out this ragged, broken sob like he can’t hold it back any longer. _I know, Lavorre, I know. I promise I know, I swear I—_

Jester feels the familiar hands of the Traveler as she’s being pulled far, far away. She _twists_ , trying to look back at Caleb, but reality starts to disintegrate, leaving her with this frightening all-encompassing whiteness. She looks down, and she no longer has _hands_ , and she hears a detached, female voice say, _He loves you, too._

Jester nods, and closes her not-eyes, bracing her not-body for what comes next.

**Author's Note:**

> Come up to meet you  
> Tell you I'm sorry  
> You don't know how lovely you are  
> I had to find you  
> Tell you I need you  
> Tell you I set you apart
> 
> —Coldplay, The Scientist


End file.
